


Were I To Take You To My Bed

by Xxthedoctorswife89xX



Series: The Redcoat and The Scot [1]
Category: Lord John Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angsty Schmoop, Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Making Love, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn with Feelings, Rape Aftermath, Smut, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, no actual rape occurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xxthedoctorswife89xX/pseuds/Xxthedoctorswife89xX
Summary: John goes to Helwater for Jamie's advice on a certain matter. His stepbrother/lover is to be hanged for sodomy. He can step in, but it may cost him to do so. What will Jamie have to say, given his own past with men who like men?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Jamie Fraser & Lord John Grey, Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey, Lord John Grey/Percy Wainwright
Series: The Redcoat and The Scot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133630
Comments: 49
Kudos: 75





	1. I Can Make You Scream

**Author's Note:**

> I took the bit leading up to the punch and the jerkoff session at the end directly from Ms. Gabaldon Herself. I do not own these beautiful characters, only Herself does.

"The end of it,” Grey said slowly, seeing it at last, “is that I cannot in honor see him hanged for a crime whose guilt I share—and from whose consequences I am escaped by chance alone.”

Fraser stiffened slightly. “A crime whose guilt ye share.” His voice was careful, realization—and distaste—clear in the words. He stopped, clearly not wishing to say more, but he could scarcely leave the matter there.

“This man. He is not only your stepbrother, but…your…your catamite?”

“He was my lover, yes.” The words should have been tinged with bitterness, but were not. Sadness, yes, but most of all, relief at the admission.

Fraser made a brief sound of contempt, though, and Grey turned upon him, reckless.

“You do not believe that men can love one another?”

“No,” Fraser said bluntly. “I do not. Not in that fashion, at least. The love of brothers, of kin—aye, of course. Or of soldiers. We have spoken of that.”

“Sparta? Yes.” Grey smiled without humor. He remembered well their talks of ancient warriors, men who, it was well known, regularly made love to other men. He always thought Jamie's naivety on the subject endearing, but now he found it irritating.

“The love of Leonidas for his men, they for each other as warriors. Aye, that’s real enough. But to...to use a man in such fashion…” He made a gesture of repudiation.

“Think so, do you?” Grey’s blood was already high; he felt it hot in his chest. “You’ve read Plato, I know. And scholar that you are, I would suppose that you’ve heard of the Sacred Band of Thebes. Perhaps?”

Fraser’s face went tight, and in spite of the dim light, Grey saw the color rise in him, as well.

“I have,” he said shortly.

“Lovers,” Grey said, realizing suddenly that he was gloriously angry. “All soldiers. All lovers. Each man and his beloved. Who would desert his beloved, or fail him in the hour of danger?” He gave Fraser stare for stare. “And what do you say to that, Mr. Fraser?”

The Scot’s eyes had gone quite black.

“What I would say,” he said, counting out the words like coins, “is that only men who lack the ability to possess a woman—or cowards who fear them—must resort to such feeble indecencies to relieve their lust. And to hear ye speak of honor in the same breath…Since ye ask, it curdles my wame. And what, my lord, d’ye say to that?”

“I say that I do not speak of the indecencies of lust—and if you wish to speak of such things, allow me to note that I have seen much grosser indecencies inflicted upon women by men, and so have you. We have both fought with armies. I said ‘love.’ And what do you think love is, then, that it is reserved only to men who are drawn to women?”

“I have loved my wife beyond life itself, and know that love for a gift of God! Ye dare to say to me that the feelings of a...a pervert who cannot deal with women as a man, but minces about and preys upon helpless boys—that this is love?”

“You accuse me of preying upon boys?” Grey’s fingers curled, just short of his dagger hilt. “I tell you, sir, were you armed, you would answer for that, here and now!”

Fraser inhaled through his nose, seeming to swell with it. “Draw on me and be damned,” he said contemptuously. “Armed or no, ye canna master me.”

“You think not? I tell you,” Grey said, and fought so hard to control the fury in his voice that it emerged as no more than a whisper, “I tell you, sir—were I to take you to my bed—I could make you scream. And by God, I would do it.”

Later, he would try to recall what had happened then. Had he moved, reflex and training cutting through the fog of rage that blinded him? Or had Fraser moved, some shred of reason altering his aim in the same split second in which he swung his fist?

Hard as he tried, no answer came. He remembered nothing but the shock of impact as Fraser’s fist struck the boards an inch from his head, and the sob of breath, hot on his face. There had been a sense of presence, of a body close to his, and the impression of some irresistible doom.

His vision cleared, eyes watering and all he saw was Fraser’s face. 

Jamie was towering above him, one hand on his lapel and the other curled into a fist against the wood. He grabbed John and shook him, his face red and screamed "Then do it, John!!! Do it, already, like ye've been wanting to for years!" He lowered his voice to a growl, "But I warn ye, John Grey, the last time, I swore not to resist. I will no' make such a promise this time. If ye wanna make me scream, ye're gonna have to best me." 

John stared at Jamie in horror. When he had said that—what demon had given him that thought, those words? I could make you scream. Oh, Christ, oh, Christ. Someone had.

A feeling welled up in him like the bursting of blood vessels deep within his belly. Liquid and terrible, it filled him within moments, swelling far beyond his power to contain it. He must vomit.

Jamie shook him again and threw him away from the wall. He pounded his chest in a sign of welcome and screamed  
"DO IT, JOHN!!!"

John knew it was feeble, but all he could muster was "Last time?"

Jamie looked at him pathetically and with disgust and in a low, terrifying voice said "Aye. Aye, I've known many men like ye, John Grey. You filthy bloody Redcoats." He spat. "Ye speak of soldiers and what they do. I ken well what your King's soldiers do. I received a hundred lashes for trying to stop one from raping my sister. I nearly had to watch as two English deserters raped my wife in broad daylight, thank Christ she carries a blade. I've seen a lad who was like my own son, Fergus, raped when he was just wee. And that same man took me countless times, made me crawl and beg and scream, while he whispered words of love in my ear one second and threats that my wife would suffer the same fate the next. I gave myself to him to protect Claire, but she is not here now, I will no' give myself to ye, and I shall die and take ye with me before I let ye have me."

John stared at him slack jawed. He couldn't believe the things Jamie had just told him. The memories of his own rape so many years ago swam in his mind, but he pushed them aside. He remembered his screams, and they were suddenly replaced by Jamie's. His eyes welled at the thought and he stared. Realizing that Jamie was again looking at him in disgust, clearly awaiting his response, whether words or some terrible action-he could clearly see Jamie was still braced for John to suddenly pounce on him and try to take his pleasure by force-he swallowed and said "I'm so sorry, Jamie."

Jamie blinked. "Ye're sorry? For what?"

"For all that you've seen and for the terrible things that have happened to you, obviously. My God, man, I had no idea. I never would have said such a...I should never had said such a thing anyway but I swear to you had I known what happened to you I never...I'm so sorry."

Jamie looked confused. He took a step toward John, thought better of it, and stepped back. "No. What I meant was- how can ye say ye're sorry when that is precisely what ye've wanted from me all these years, but maybe 'til now you've been too lordly and proper to take it from me?"

"Too lordly and proper? To rape you? You think that's all that stands in my way of...of...that? Of rape?"

"Aye. Ye could have had me at Ardsmuir, easily. But I reckoned you didna want to call in the help ye would have needed to hold me down. Not lordly or proper. But I see yer rage and lust and frustration has had the better of ye now. Will ye try it now?"

John's eyes watered again and he sat on a nearby bale of hay and stared at Fraser. He loved him. Had loved since that very night at Ardsmuir when Jamie had threatened to kill him if he didn't remove his touch from him. And Jamie thought that was an attempt at rape. Thought John was a pervert, a monster, a predator and a child molester, preying on whatever he could stick his cock in, man woman or child.

"Jamie. Mr Fraser. I swear to you, here and now, I have never wanted to cause you, or anyone, no man, no woman and certainly no child, any harm. Whatsoever. Not in any way, but especially sexually. I do not receive gratification in that way."

Jamie scoffed and didn't take his eyes off Grey. "Ye'll forgive me if I dinna believe ye."

"I will not!" Grey said, rising to his feet. "I understand your fears, now, and I cannot say I blame you. But my limit is drawing near. You have accused me of unspeakable acts and I will hear those accusations no more! That your experience with men, with Redcoats has been such, I deeply regret. I cannot convey to you the depth of my sorrow, save to tell you that I have experienced that pain as well. I have never wished to inflict it even on my worst enemy!" 

He was shouting now, his hair had come loose and he could feel the heat color his cheeks. He felt as though he couldn't breathe. His chest ached. He has never told a living soul what happened to him, only Hector knew. The secret died with him and buried in John. He looked at Jamie in horror at this sudden confession. 

Jamie's eyebrows came together in concern, clearly despite himself, and he moved towards John again for the first time since he tried to kill him with one punch. But once again, he changed his mind and stepped back. 

"The same? Ye mean...ye were...taken? Against yer will?"

"Yes. Many years ago. I've...dealt with it. I've moved on. I don't talk about it."

"No. Nor I, usually." Jamie sighed and finally sat, near John, but not too close. And he still seemed ready to flee at a second's notice. "John, if ye know what it is to be taken that way, how can ye look on it as anything other than unnatural, wrong? To take pleasure from causing pain, and to call it love...I canna understand."

"Have you not made love to your wife hundreds, perhaps a thousand times? Can you tell me there was no difference between that and what was done to us? Or can you see that making love to someone and having a cock forced inside you are two different things? I have never been with anyone who did not give their body to me of their own free will. When I take a man, or he takes me, we are both equals in that moment, and we receive equal pleasure."

He saw Jamie's fist clench at the admission of finding pleasure in another man. A knee-jerk reaction, he chalked it up to. Jamie was silent for a long minute, thinking. He had finally dared to look at the ground instead of warily at John. 

Finally he spoke. "And ye swear to me ye have never taken a child?"

John sighed. He was growing weary of such vile discussions. "I swear on all that I hold sacred in this world. On my honor. Never."

"Well then. I canna say I understand ye, John. I dinna ken why a man such as yerself, untainted by thoughts of lust and violence, wouldn't want to lay with a woman. Ye're a....strapping lad...I dinna mind saying now that I know ye're not gonna...well, nevermind that. Ye should try to take up with a lass. I bet Isobel Dunsany would have ye in a moment's notice."

John laughed at that. He knew she would. Knew she'd harbored attractions at the very least for most of their lives. But he wasn't interested in convincing Jamie that his attraction to men wasn't a choice. He only wanted to make absolutely sure the air between them was cleared.

"I appreciate the advice. But I'm still deeply concerned about this conversation you and I have had today, these revelations. I want to be sure there is no more...anger or suspicion between us."

"I ken ye still want me, John. I ken now ye won't have me by force but I have to admit, I'm still wary of ye. 'Tis not your fault! I see that now. But I need time, to see ye for what ye are, and for what ye're not. But I tell you now, I'm verra sorry for the way I've treated ye. Ye've been kind, ye've aided me and protected me and I misjudged those actions. That is my sin to bear." 

"You haven't entirely misread my actions, Mr. Fraser. I have aided and protected you because I do want you. I shall probably want you until the day I die. But I know you can never feel the same. It does not matter to me. I want you safe. I will take my leave of you, now, before I can say anything else that may get me punched. Take care, Jamie. I shall see you next quarter." 

And with that, he stood and left, only turning back once to see Jamie standing in the open door of the barn with a strange look on his face, then he turned back around and went straight to his bed chamber.

He ripped at his flies, gasping. A moment, two, of desperate fisting, and it all came out of him. Remorse and longing, rage and lust—and other things that he could put no name to under torture—all of it ran like quicksilver down his spine, between his legs, and erupted in gouts that drained him like a punctured wine sack.

His legs had no strength. He sank to his knees and knelt there, swaying, eyes closed. He knew nothing but the sense of a terrible relief.

In minutes—or hours—he became aware of the sun through the shades, a dark red blur in the blackness of his closed lids. A moment later, he realized that he was kneeling on the floor in front of the door, forehead pressed to the wood , his breeches loose and his member still tightly clutched in his hand.


	2. Such Dreams As These...I Know They Mean No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Jamie withdraw to their corners of Helwater to think and to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own these boys, only Herself does.

John pulled up his breeches and climbed into bed. Just a rest before dinner, he told himself. To clear away the thoughts that were rolling in his head.

Jamie had been raped. Jamie thought he wanted to rape him. God. How far off base was that? He wanted to hold him, to be held by him. He wanted to kiss him and make love to him, tenderly. He wanted Jamie to have him, to mark him with his seed. But where he fantasized about tenderness, Jamie had always looked at him with fear. Well, he could only hope that would change from this day on. He fell asleep to the awful visions of Jamie, bent over some surface or another, screaming. 

In his dreams, Jamie was screaming at him. Calling him a filthy bloody Redcoat pervert. He snapped and pushed Jamie against the wall, tore down his breeches and his own, and had him right there. Jamie screamed, as he promised he would make him do.

He woke up sweating, gasping for air. He clutched at his head and squeezed his eyes shut so tightly he thought they may never open again. He didn't want to have such dreams. Where had they come from? This wasn't his nature. He rolled over and fell back asleep.

This time, they were at Ardsmuir, playing chess. He placed his hand on Jamie's and he didn't flinch away. He leaned over and kissed him. Still, Jamie didn't move. "Jamie?" he asked tentatively. But Jamie only stared at him in disgust before slitting his throat.

He awoke again, clutching his throat. "Dear God. That is more than enough, John Grey." and he rose from the bed to dress for dinner.

\--------‐----------------------

Jamie lay awake after his supper, thinking of all that had transpired that day. If he were honest, he was thinking about a lot of little moments in the last few years. Ever since John Grey had conjured the specter of Jack Randall one fateful night at Ardsmuir, he had looked at him as if he were Jack Randall in the flesh. When John had flogged him (been forced to flog him, he corrected himself now), he had been Black Jack. When he told Jamie he would come to check on him periodically, it was Black Jack reminding him he'd never be free. All those visits, chess games at Helwater. He'd always thought of Captain Jonathan Wulverton Randall, toying with him. Lulling him into a false sense of security.

He felt shame now. John had done so much for him. And while the actions weren't entirely selfless, they were entirely to keep Jamie safe. And not only did he have no way to repay him, no, he'd treated him with contempt and false politeness. 

He wasn't as much of a stranger to the love between two men as he'd led John to believe. Before Black Jack, he knew the Duke of Sandringham fancied him, and he hadn't thought much of it beyond the acknowledgment he would never return such desires. During war, he had known soldiers to take comfort in eachother, and after war, prisoners did the same. When he was 18 and serving in France with his dear friend and now brother in law Ian, there had been times where they simply sat close together, shoulders touching, just for that small bit of human touch and warmth. If Ian had ever...he doesn't know what may have happened. Perhaps, at such a young age, full of young men's desires...?

He didn't know why he was thinking of such things, or why he kept thinking about the fact that he could never repay John for all his acts of....kindness? Love? He didn't know. As he fell asleep, he started wondering if maybe he could repay him, some day.

In his dreams, Jamie was telling John how sorry he was for the years of hatred, suspicion and fear. John was as gracious a Lord as ever. Jamie moved toward him, took his face in his hands and very softly kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you, for protecting me," he said. 

He woke up and cast about in the darkness. Where had that come from? This wasn't his nature. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

This time, they were at Ardsmuir, playing chess. John placed his hand on Jamie's and he didn't flinch away. John leaned over and kissed him. Jamie froze for a moment, his heart thudding. His body screamed silently in fear. Then he realized it wasn't Jack Randall kissing him. It was Lord John Grey. Lord John, whose debt had spared his life after Culloden. John, who had provided blankets and medicine and food for Murtagh when he was ill. John, who had not had him hanged for escape. John, who looked at him with so much care, he didn't know how he didn't see it before. He took John's face in his hands and kissed him back, slowly at first, trying. Then John opened his mouth in surprise and Jaime tasted the wine. It was...wonderful. Not the wine, but tasting it in John's mouth, along the slick surface of his tongue. He rose and bid John to do so as well. They kissed their way to John's bed, where he swiftly removed his breeches, bent him over, and without another thought, took him from behind. John screamed, and Jamie awoke in a sweat.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" He said to himself in the gripping darkness. "Well, that is more than enough of that, James Fraser." And he rose from his bed roll in the stables and made up his mind to have another talk with John before he left in the morning.


	3. In the Dead of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie visits John in his chambers to clear the air, Part One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this next bit here was supposed to be the final chapter, but as always with me, it got verra long. I decided to break it into two, and since I'm still writing, thought I'd give yinz a short sneak peek. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this slightly convoluted chapter in our tale, and as always, the characters belong to Herself and I merely ask for comments to feed my narcissism in lieu of payment. ;)

Lord John Grey couldn't sleep. Well, he probably could, but he wouldn't. Not with the dreams he kept having about Jamie. He didn't want to have those kinds of dreams.

So he sat in his bed chamber, choosing tea over wine to stay awake, and thought perhaps he should write some letters to pass the time. Just as he sat down with his quill, though, he heard a sharp rapping at his window. Startled, he knocked over the pot of ink and grabbed for his sword. 

"John." He heard a Scottish whisper. "John it's me. I canna come through the house. Open the window, it's bloody freezing out here!" 

John ran to the window and opened it, grabbing Jamie by the arm and pulling him into the room. "My God, man!" He said as he swiftly closed the window. "You're lucky you weren't shot for a prowler!"

Jamie laughed. "Aye, well, a prowler I have been, so I have some practice at not being shot for one." 

Just then there was another rapping, this time quieter and at his bed chamber door. He looked at Jamie aghast but Jamie had already slipped under the bed and was invisible behind the dust ruffle. Good God, he thought. James Fraser was in his chambers in the middle of the night, now hiding under the bed from prying eyes. Maybe he was dreaming again. 

He shook himself out of his fantasies and opened the door a crack. Isobel Dunsany stood on the other side holding a candle and peering at John with wide eyes.

"Lord John. I thought I heard a crash and came to see if everything was alright. I hope I didn't disturb you." She looked at him with her large, doe eyes and John knew that the sound of the ink pot falling to the floor was just the excuse she needed to visit him at so late an hour. If he opened the door and let her in, well that would be most improper. Not that she had come for that, of course. She was a proper lady. But he was sure she was eager to spend any time with him that she could alone, even if it were just to check on him from outside his door.

"Thank you, Lady Isobel, but I am fine. I simply dropped something." He smiled at her and inwardly begged her to go away now. She did not.

"Oh," she said quietly, then, "well, would you like to accompany me to the kitchen? I was just going down for some warm milk to sleep."

"I'm sure you could ring for the servants, Miss, and they'd happily oblige?" He gave his most polite but discouraging smile.

"Oh. No. I wouldn't want to wake them. I'll go down myself. Good night, Lord John."

He knew he should go with her. She shouldn't be heading down to the kitchen by herself so late at night. It wasn't entirely safe. But Jamie was still under his bed so he said "Good night, Lady Isobel. I shall see you in the morrow," and closed his door.

Jamie immediately stood up from his hiding place and waggled his eyebrows at Grey. "Aye? See what I told ye?" 

"I do not recall disagreeing with you. I know of Lady Isobel's feelings for me. You and I both know I do not return those feelings and why. She does not know why but I think I've made it clear through the years that the feelings are not returned. God, what am I talking about? Jamie...Mr. Fraser, why are you here?"

Jamie dropped his teasing smile and straightened up. He gave his coat a tug and fixed John with his most somber Scottish stare. John grew wary. "I have wronged, ye, Lord Grey, and I have come to settle our differences once and for all." 

John stared, unblinking. Wronged him? Settle how? Why would he come to him in the middle of the night, when doing so could be so dangerous, just to say this to him? He sighed and told Jamie "You have done no such thing. There were... circumstances neither of us were aware of. We have aired our grievances and made amends, already. You don't owe me anything, Jamie." 

"Aye, I do. I ken I owe you much. And I hope ye'll allow me to ask ye some questions in return. Ye're right that there are things neither of us understand about the other, and I want to rectify that situation, here, now, before ye leave, so that when we meet again, it will be with clear eyes and on equal footing."  
He could see Jamie wouldn't budge until he'd had his say so he poured another cup of tea and handed it to him before sitting in a chair and indicating the other for Jamie. He seemed unwilling to sit for a moment but then he took it. 

They looked at eachother for a long moment before John finally cleared his throat and said, "I feel like I've wronged you, as well." Jamie looked at him oddly and asked why he thought so. "I cannot really explain," he said. "It...it may upset you to hear it." Jamie grunted. "Aye. I think I understand yer meaning. Ye want me still? After learning my secrets?" "Yes." "Perhaps ye...had a dream about me? Perhaps that's why you're not in bed now?" "How can you know that?" "Well, I dinna KEN it, exactly. But I had a dream about you, too."

John was absolutely sure they weren't dreaming about the same thing. Or perhaps they were. Would that be so odd? In his dreams, he had raped Jamie. He knew now Jamie had probably had those nightmares. Or there was the one where Jamie slit his throat. He'd probably had those dreams, as well. Jamie seemed to read the despair in John's face, although he misunderstood it. 

"There's no shame in it, John. The things we discussed today would leave scars in anybody's dreams." 

"What was your dream about me?" John asked, but he wasn't at all sure he wanted a truthful answer. And Jamie didn't seem keen on giving it. He grimaced and sat up in his chair a bit. "Weel...it was a bit hazy. I believe we were playing chess." "Well that's no so odd, we do that a lot," John replied. Inwardly, he felt a bit of a chill. He had dreamt about them playing chess, too. But like he had said, that wasn't so odd. That's practically all they did together. 

Jamie seemed anxious to stray from this talk of dreams so he said "What we dreamt about isna that important, other than it's sort of what made me come to ye tonight." "Oh? How so?" "Weel, I realized something. In my dream, if ye ken my meaning. I realized that ye've always been good to me. Regardless of yer motivations, ye have always been good to me. I have no' repaid ye the way I ought to. I have been cruel, and I have judged ye, and I have said mean spirited things that I ken my Claire and my sister Jenny would scold me for. And seeing ye now, the state ye're in because of the things I told ye, I ken more than ever that I misjudged ye greatly, and I am sorry that I brought so much pain to ye with the sharing of my secrets." 

John's heart crumpled at Jamie's apology and he reached his hand out to touch him but wisely thought better of it. He couldn't believe he was saying these things. "Jamie...Mr. Fraser..." "Och, John, ye can call me Jamie. Ye want to, anyways, always with the Jamie Mr. Fraser! For the record, I am still Laird of Lallybroch. Laird Broch Tuarach would be the proper way of addressin' me, if ye were trying to be proper," and he winked at him. 

For the life of him, John could not gauge Jamie's moods. Ever since he nearly attempted to break every bone in John's face today, probably rendering him lifeless had he suceeded, John had to admit he was just a bit frightened of Jamie. Scratch that, John had been just this side of frightened of Jamie since the night they met, when John was just sixteen. The night he had tried to kill Jamie. But now he was here, in the dead of night, in his bedroom, teasing him.

Jamie was still waiting for an answer.

"Jamie. As I said earlier, there is really no need to apologize so. I'm glad you told me. I mean...that sounds wrong, somehow, now. But I am. Because now I know and I will try to never do anything to remind you of that man again. As for the things you've thought about me...well, how can I blame you for thinking such things? That has been your experience..." "That has no' been my experience with you." "Well, no. But you didn't know that it wouldn't be. As for..." "Jaysus, John! Will ye stop yer haverin'? Ye don't always have to be the most noble and longsuffering man in the room! I'm tellin' ye I did ye wrong, and ye wanna argue that no, I didna. I owe ye a debt, John, and I'm here to pay it." 

John looked at Jamie in shock for a moment. Nobody spoke to him that way. Only Jamie ever had. He supposed that was part of the attraction. He gave him a wry smile and said, "The most noble, longsuffering man in the room? Alright. I suppose I can concede that one. You're not exactly the first person to call me such." Jamie smiled back. "No? I'm no' the only person ye know who sees that ye must always be gallant to a fault?" John laughed heartily at that but quickly sobered. So when did Jamie start seeing him as gallant and not a pervert?

Jamie seemed to read his mind. "Aye, John. I see ye for what ye are. That's why I came here to ye tonight. I wanted to...to offer an explanation." "Jamie, you already explained yourself." "No. I yelled at ye and made accusations against ye but I did not truly explain. I couldna have, as I didna yet understand everything myself 'til after ye left and I lay awake thinking about it. Do ye have any wine, John? Only, this conversation may be easier to have with some spirits to slick the way?" 

John got up from his chair and poured out two glasses of wine from the decanter, handed one to Jamie, and sat back down silently, finally allowing Jamie to have the silence he needed to organize and voice his thought. They sat for a moment, Jamie sipping at his wine, until he finally opened his mouth and spoke.


	4. With a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie visits John's chambers to clear the air, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, DG is the owner of these two gorgeous broken men and I want comments. Enjoy!

They sat for a moment, Jamie sipping at his wine, until he finally opened his mouth and spoke.

"My wife used to tell me there was a word for what happened to you and I. Trauma, she called it. She says trauma sits in yer belly like a deep wound, and it festers there. That sometimes, ye have to open the wound and let the infection out. I have no' opened this wound in a verra long time. Nor have ye, from what I saw in yer face today in the barn when ye let slip to me yer secrets. She...Claire said...that if ye don't let the wound see some fresh air now and then, that it spreads. It infects everything until one day, ye are defined by it. I believe that's what I allowed to happen to myself. When...when I....when he raped me, I wanted to die. Claire wouldna let me. She forced me to talk about it. She said that in her...where she came from...there was a method of healing called therapy. Talking to heal. And it did heal me, slowly. But after Culloden, she was gone. And I didna have anyone to talk to about it, or any of the other horrors I'd seen. So I buried it back down into my belly and let it rot there. I didna ken it had spread until today."

John did not interrupt, he simply looked at Jamie with all the caring and understanding he could muster.

"I dinna ken how to explain to ye my feelings toward ye without starting at the beginning. And I hope by telling ye now, perhaps my old wounds will begin to heal. I hope I dinna cause ye any hurt, by telling ye these things."

He told him everything, then. He told him how he first met Randall, the days in Fort William, Randall's offer to let him go if he submitted his body to him, how he couldn't do so and paid the dear price. "The scars on your back. They're from him?" "Aye. And many more scars, too." He continued and told John about escaping, about spending years on the run from him until he met Claire, how Randall became obsessed with Claire, even before he knew she was married to Jamie, and how once he had captured Jamie once and for all, he used her to secure what he'd always wanted: Jamie's submission.  
"Once he had me, he used me relentlessly. If ye want me to stop now, I will." 

John hesitated. He did not want to hear all the vile things this monster did to his Jamie. But he knew Jamie needed to say it, so he nodded his head at him to go on.

"I only spent one night with him, but it felt like years. By the time my rescuers came, I couldna see which way was up, couldna recall what country I was in if ye'd asked me. He beat me, burned me, branded me, raped me, then started again. He took me by force, then he made me beg for it, if only to stop the beatings. At times he...I've never been able to say this part without...at times he made love to me." He broke then, and put his face in his hands. After a moment he took a long sip of his wine, which John refilled. John wanted to comfort him so badly, but he knew better. He stayed still and quiet and allowed Jamie to finish. "One of the last times, he tried so desperately to make me tell him I loved him. I didna. I never could. My love for Claire was the only part of myself I had left. In the end, he almost got that from me, too. The worst part of all of it, and Claire had told me time and again that it wasna my fault, but the worst part has always been how he made me rouse to him." John nearly gasped in shock, but was able to swallow it. "I didna know where I was, I was in so much pain, I only wanted the pain to stop and then it did. He was making love to me and he...he stroked my manhood until I became erect for him. When we had both finished, I was so ashamed. He loved that. It was the best part for him."

They were both silent for a moment, letting Jamie's words float in the air and then settle to the ground.

"When my rescuers came for me, I almost didna let them take me. I begged my godfather to kill me. All I wanted was to be free of the memories. But he loved me. Ye know him. Murtagh Fitzgibbons." John's eyes widened in shock. "Your godfather?" "Aye. He loved my mother once. He doesna ken I ken it, but he did. He's looked out for me since the verra day I was born. He would no' let me be to die there. He would no' lift a finger to aid me in dyin'. And he knew Claire would never allow him to see another day if he did!" He said laughing. John, who until now had been pale and nauseated, finally was able to crack a small smile. It was good to see Jamie laugh for a moment. It didn't last long. 

"Claire mended my body, but I was so lost in my own sea of despair I refused to take hold of the life boat she had sent for me. So she dragged me into it, fighting all the way. She made me tell her everything, as I'm telling you now. And it did help, John. It took a long while for me to feel like myself again, but it all started with the telling."

John knew exactly what he meant by that. After his own assault, which he now felt paled in comparison to Jamie's, he had felt broken, ashamed, and even a little suicidal himself. Hector saw it all in him immediately. He hadn't forced John to tell him anything, but through time, and with love, he brought it out of him. When John finally told him what had occurred, how he had been seized from behind by some unknown assailant, thrown into some bushes and taken quickly by force, it was like a dam had broken. He lay in Hector's arms and cried for what felt like hours, and when he had finished, he had sat up and the world felt a little safer.

"And so, ye see, John, I healed from my wounds, but the scars were still there, and every now and then they itched. But there was so much then to distract me. We sailed to France, had many adventures, and then war broke out. Weel, I ken ye English call it an uprising and not a war, but for us it was war. And we lost. And ye know what happened then. My Claire was gone, and I had nothing left but to sit and wallow about in my own despair again. Now I had lost two children, a wife, a country, my home, my family. All. When ye met me at Ardsmuir, I was a shell of a man. I only lived each day because I kent Calire would want me to. And because helping the men at the prison gave me a new sense of purpose. I kent I could help them if I continued to grow close to ye. But in that time, something was happening I didna understand until...well, until that night. I was beginning to feel human again. Our dinners, our talks, our chess games. They made me feel like ye saw me not as just a prisoner but as a real man of flesh and blood and bone."

For the first time, John interrupted him. "And then I destroyed that by making you feel like a helpless prisoner at the mercy of my unnatural desires. Again." He felt sick with shame. God, why did he have to do that? He has always known that he did not see Jamie as just a prisoner, that his desires had nothing to do with wishing to subjugate him. But how could a prisoner know as such? Even if Jamie hadn't had these awful experiences, John should have known better than to proposition a man who had no ability to say no. He is lucky Jamie did not kill him to escape that night. 

"No. Well, aye. Aye. That is how it felt then. That's what I'm here to say, John. Although I suppose I am taking my sweet time of it. That night, when ye opened yer heart to me and laid yer hand on mine, I could not see John Grey. I looked at ye, and yer red coat hanging on the door, and all I could see was Black Jack Randall. Claire used to be able to pull me back from these hallucinations. But she wasna there, was she? I felt like I was trapped in Wentworth again, I could feel the walls closing in on me and his breath hot on my neck and ye were there just looking at me with a hopeful smile on yer lips. Don't look so guilty, John! I'm tryin' to tell ye...it's not coming out right...ye didna do anything wrong, John! It wasna yer fault! Ye took yer hand off me the moment I told ye to, ye let me leave the room. I should have realized then that ye weren't like Randall. But my old wounds felt like they'd been ripped open now and from that day on, I couldna look at yer face without seeing his. It wasna a new problem, exactly. It happened many times in the days following Wentworth. That is why I have treated ye with coldness since that day. It wasna because of yer...nature. I...should have told ye sooner but, I've known other men like ye, and...and it never used to upset me so. Randall made me hate that way of things. As I said, I've taken my sweet time of it, but that is what I came here to say to ye. That it was no' ye I hated. It shouldna been, anyway. I realized that today. To my shame, only after ye told me ye'd experienced the same pain as I. I should have realized sooner, but my sister did always tell me I was daft as a sheep."

Jamie stopped there to let John absorb everything he'd said. After a minute, he sighed. "Thank you for telling me. I know it wasn't easy to do so." "No. But I feel lighter now, like I've unloaded a burden. I hope ye don't feel I have given it to ye." "I do not. I'll admit, given my...well...because I care for you, as a friend, it does weigh on me. But not in that way. I'm...happy to help you bear it, if that makes sense." "Aye it does. Which is what I want to discuss with ye next. John, ye have yer own burdens ye're carrying. As part of my repayment for all the kind things ye have done for me over the years, I'd like to offer ye my ears and my shoulders, to help ye bear it. If that is something ye would want." 

John wasn't exactly sure what Jamie was implying, but then he put it together. "Oh. You want to know about my...experience?" "Aye. Only if ye wish to tell me." John thought about it. There wasn't much to tell. He did not know who his assailant was, it lasted five minutes at the most. For him, "The worst part was never knowing who. Or why." 

John hadn't realized he'd started talking. He got up and refilled their wine glasses. Jamie was right, this was a conversation best slicked by spirits. "For a long time after it happened, I was afraid to walk alone at night. Not a very good fear to have working as a scout in the Army. It had happened while I was on watch one night. He came up behind me, again, not very good for an Army scout, grabbed me by my coat and the seat of my breeches, and threw me like a rag doll into the bushes. I actually thought it was Hal, picking on me. Then my breeches were pulled down and I didn't even realize what the pain was until he had finished. He...I'm sorry if this offends you...he finished inside me. I could feel...well, anyways. After that, I was quite hesitant to go on watch again. But obviously I couldn't tell my brother that for he would demand to know why. I couldn't face the shame in telling him. So I went out, every night, absolutely terrified. Now, after all this time, I suppose I sometimes feel a shudder, when I'm walking alone at night."

Jamie looked thoughtful. John cocked his head as if to ask what was on his mind, and Jamie looked into his eyes. "So...so that night, outside Ardsmuir, when I grabbed ye from behind and held a sword to yer throat...did I...?" "Only for a moment, Jamie." Jamie buried his face in his hands. "You don't need to feel that way. As soon as you spoke to me the feeling passed. I knew you weren't there to harm me." Jamie raised his brow. "Sexually," John amended.  
"No. No, I would never wish to harm ye in that way, John." "Of course I know that, old friend." 

Jamie looked at him curiously, now. John raised his brow but he said nothing in reply. John felt a bit uncomfortable under such a gaze and took another sip of wine. It was probably the term "old friend" that had affected Jamie. John knew he didn't like to be called a friend; he was his prisoner, still. 

"How does it work then? Can ye tell me?" Jamie finally said. "What's that?" "The love between two men that doesn't cause any pain..."

You could have knocked John over with a feather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, there may or may not be smut next chapter. I haven't actually decided yet. If there is, of course I will tag it and put it in the foreword. This story was actually intended to be smut from the beginning, but I got so lost in the feels. How can I not with these two? There are so many damn feels!


	5. Are You Offering Your Body To Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has a lot of questions for John regarding the love between two men. He wants to understand why John would want such a thing, and maybe if he could ever want it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shall we get to the heart of the matter?

John was at a complete loss for words. For a man who had always prided himself on his eloquent vocabulary, he was a bit disturbed to realize that Jamie often made him speechless. But this...this was a new and highly unforeseen progression. 

Had Jamie just asked him to tell him about...love between two men...how it...works? He must have misunderstood the question. Jamie had made it perfectly clear, crystal clear, as clear as a mountain spring, that the entire idea repulsed him. Even in light of all that had been shared tonight, that he had known other sodomites, that he wasn't always so repulsed by it, even with that, John knew just about every man who wasn't so inclined shared those feelings of disdain. That's why he had lived his life in secret, like all sodomites. To do otherwise is certain death. High nobility can get away with it sometimes. Nobody else can. 

Jamie was looking at him now with a twinkle in his eye and a small smirk. John realized he had completely detached and wondered how long he had stared breathlessly at him. He cleared his throat and drained his wine, then refilled both their glasses. "Forgive me. I'm afraid I don't understand your question." 

"John, ye ken what I'm asking just fine. How does it work?" "Alright. Fine. I know what you're asking. But I don't in God's name know why. Or what exactly you would like me to tell you." Jamie looked at his hands thoughtfully for a moment, but then he looked up and his eyes bore straight into John's.

"Alright. There are a number of reasons I ask. Earlier today, ye told me that if ye were to take me to yer bed, ye could make me scream, and that ye would." John flinched and opened his mouth to speak but Jamie held up his finger. "I ken well that ye could do such a thing, I ken well that ye said that in anger and with no intention behind it, but I was wonderin' if it is always like that? When two men...ye said make love but I know that makin' love can also be painful. Is it always so?"

"No," John said. "It is not always so. And..." he took a deep, shuddering breath. "Nevermind. No. It isn't. But I need to apologize to you for saying that. You're right that I was angry. I'll regret saying that to you until I die." "I ken ye will, John. But ye needn't. We have both said vicious things, I more than you. What were ye going to say? Before ye said to never mind?" John looked at him sincerely. How much could he say? He really did not want tonight to go the way the afternoon had, with raised voices and punches thrown. 

"Alright. If you really want to know, you cannot be upset with me for the answer."   
"I will no'. Speak freely to me, John, I am asking for your honesty."   
"I was going to say...I cannot believe I am about to say this to you...were I to take you to my bed, I would never want you to scream...from pain. I would prefer...other feelings behind it." Jamie thought about that for a s second and then he raised his brows and a small smile appeared on his face. "Oh. Oh, aye, John. That's not so surprising. Is that no' what most men wish for from their lovers? I'd hate to have to let ye down, though. 'Twas always my Claire who was loudest in the bed." 

John broke out in a laughter so warm, so full of genuine relief, Jamie had to laugh with him. The tension of the night seemed to finally dissipate, the wine was taking hold, and they bothed laughed breathlessly for several moments. Finally, with tears streaming down his face, John sat up and caught his breath before asking, "Is she the only woman you've been with?" 

Jamie sat up as well, took another sip.of wine as he, too, caught his breath and sobered. "No. Not anymore. But she was my first, aye. And I was faithful to her for a long time after." John didn't need to hear anymore on that subject. He knew how potent first love was, and he knew it was ridiculous, but he was jealous to hear Jamie talk of his. 

"You said there were several reasons for your inquiry...?" Jamie fixed him with another pointed stare, weighing his words. "Why do ye like men, John?" "I believe I was born this way. I had no choice in the matter. When boys my age started noticing girls, I was noticing them. It didn't feel wrong to me. It never has. But I am acutely aware society does not feel the same about it." "And do ye often have men? Is it easy for ye to find other such men?" "I wouldn't say it is easy. We have to be discreet. Men like you can walk into any tavern and take hold of some woman and call her pretty names and share a meal and off you pop to the bed chamber. We cannot do that. We rely on glances, touches of the hand, moments of recognizing our desires in eachother, which can be easily misread as you know. When we are certain the other man wants us, and will not go running for a noose, we cannot head to our beds, usually. We have to find somewhere safe, dark and hidden. We have to be quiet. But...it happens often enough." 

"Misread. So that night, at Ardsmuir. You...misread me?" "I believe I did, yes. I thought we had shared a moment. I'm sorry now for that. You were my prisoner, and I never would have taken advantage of that authority, but you could not have known that. Whatever moment I thought we had shared was simply a result of good food and wine and two lonely men in good company." "Aye, I was lonely. I didna know you were, too. But if ye knew I was no' like ye, that I'd had a wife, why did ye think I would go to yer bed with ye?" "Well, I've been with married men. I assure you, that is not always an impediment. But mostly because we are soldiers. Sometimes, when there are no women about, soldiers take what comfort they can find in eachother. I swear to you, Jamie, I've always seen you as more of a fellow soldier than as my prisoner." "So ye were seeking comfort from me that night?" "Yes. And I hoped to offer you comfort in return."

Jamie did not respond, but he seemed to be weighing John's words carefully. Then, abruptly, he looked at John as if he had come to a decision. He drained his glass again and poured out one more, the decanter was getting low. "I told ye I had a dream about ye. Do ye want to know what it was?" "Yes," John whispered. There was a charge in the air, and he felt like one wrong move could break whatever spell had fallen.

"Then I will tell ye. I dreamt of that night. I dreamt that when ye laid yer hand on me, I did not tell you to remove it under threat of death. I let ye stay there, and ye kissed me." John did gasp in shock this time. If Jamie told him that he slit his throat for it, they had the same dream. "When ye kissed me, that's when I realized that ye weren't a sadist like John Randall, that ye were a good man, that ye had done much for me, and I took ye to yer bed." John blinked several times at that. Jamie had had an erotic dream about him? He could feel blood rushing down between legs, and he prayed his dressing gown was loose enough to hide the hardness swelling there. "But when I took ye, I hurt ye and ye screamed. It woke me up, and that's when I decided to come here, to have this out with ye at last." 

John stood up and went to his valise. He had another bottle of wine stowed there. Sometimes when he visited Helwater, he needed it, but did not want his hosts to know how many bottles of wine he consumed in the late hours to rid his thoughts of their stable man. He uncorked it and refilled the decanter, still not speaking. When the bottle was empty, he replaced the cork and put the bottle back in his bag. Then he sat and poured a glass. He held it in his hands for a moment before taking a sip and finally looking back at Jamie. He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure what Jamie was saying. Did he want reassurance that that would never happen? Did he seek forgiveness for having such dreams? Or was he insinuating something else?

"What is it, exactly, that you would like to have out with me, Jamie?" "Weel, I suppose I came here mostly because I owed ye a debt, and I suppose I was wondering if I may be able to bring myself to pay it somehow, but now I..."   
"Stop. James Fraser, stop right there. I will hear no more talk of debts. You owe me nothing. You never have and you never shall. My God! Are you actually offering your body to me in payment? And after all we have discussed here tonight, you believe I would accept such an offer? I should think my honor most insulted if I didn't..." 

"Fer Christ's sake, John, calm yer tits!" "Calm my...what?" "Yer tits, John. Calm them. I wasna offering my body to ye in payment," John blushed, thinking he'd been greatly mistaken, "anymore. I see now ye wouldn't take it. Being so noble and longsufferin' as ye are." He gave John a pointed look and a wink and John let out a small sigh of relief. "That was why I came. To offer my explanations, as I did, to tell ye I no longer saw ye as a sadist or a predator, as I did, and to let ye have what ye wanted, but only if ye could convince me that it wouldn't cause ye any harm. But..." he held up a finger, seeing John trying to interrupt him again "but then ye talked of love, and of comfort. Ye offered it to me long ago, and I did not respond kindly, but ye told me today that ye should always want me, and ye told me tonight that ye want me still. So now I am here to ask ye...Does yer offer of comfort to a lonely fellow soldier still stand?"


	6. Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has made his choice. Will John make the same one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I desperately need to go to sleep, but here's a sneak peek of what's to come and a little insight into what Jamie has been thinking this whole time and how he came to this decision. 
> 
> Enjoy!!!
> 
> These characters are property of Diana Gabaldon Herself and I make no money but I do love comments!

Jamie kent he had caught John off his guard with that statement. The truth was, he had put some thought into this before climbing onto the Dunsany's roof and scaling the ledge to John's bedroom window in the dead of night. He had felt like he owed it to John to give him the only thing John truly wanted, the only thing he had to give. 

If he were honest with himself, he had to admit that John was braw. And quite bonnie, for a lad. He had seen him without a shirt a few times, and though he had the muscles of a soldier, there was also a curve to his waist that sometimes reminded Jamie of a woman. His hair was lovely, longer than Claire's, but without the curls. His blue eyes were bonnie, too, like the sea in southern France. And when he blushed, the color rose high in his cheeks like the fair lasses at Castle Leoch. He supposed if he had needed to, he could try to pretend it was a lass after all. But now he realized that would be shameful, that it would be dishonoring to John. 

When he had first begun to consider this course of action, he had thought about what John had said, "When I take a man, or he takes me, we are both equals in that moment, we both receive equal pleasure." So John wasn't opposed to being taken? He found pleasure in it? Jamie kent that no matter how he felt about John now, he could never again submit to a man in that way. 

He was deeply concerned about the dream he had had. He kent from his own experiences the pain that came with even gentle penetration. He didna want to hurt John. But John had said it didn't have to be painful, though he never did explain to Jamie how. He supposed it was much the same as with women, that perhaps some kisses and caresses and wanting the penetration would ease the way. 

Now, though, after John had told him that he had only ever sought comfort in Jamie's touch, that he had hoped to provide Jamie with some comfort as well, he thought that perhaps he wanted that, too. 

He had been so lonely and broken these past years without Claire. At first, he couldna imagine being with anyone else. Then Mary McNab had made the same offer of comfort and he had hesitantly accepted. It had meant much to him, and he thought about it many nights laying in the prison, nights his mind wasna preoccupied with thoughts of Claire.  
And so he had decided to accept John's offer as well, if that was what he still wanted, and if he'd be amenable to Jamie's conditions.

"What, ye dinna want me, John?" he asked now, in John's bedchamber at three in the mornin'. John had not responded to Jamie's words for several minutes now. He held the wine glass so tightly in his hand, Jamie was afraid he'd break it. He didna think a cut hand and shards of glass would be a welcome aesthetic to the evening, so he gently reached forward and took it from John. Finally, John blinked and met Jamie's amused gaze. 

"My God," he whispered. "Och, John, ye've called on Him enough tonight, I think. Let's not risk His anwerin' ye, now." John was staring at him in wonder, his eyebrows lifted nearly to his hair line. "Jamie, please tell me you are not toying with me. I do not think I think I could stand it." "I am no' toying with ye. I am no' testin' ye, either. This is a sincere request." He used the word request over offer because he kent now John would accept no offers from him. 

"Jamie," John whispered, and Jamie went to him, taking his hand and slowly lifting it to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on John's knuckles. He held his hand there under his mouth and stroked his thumb across where he had kissed, eyes never leaving John's. 

John stood and pulled Jamie to his feet. They stood in front of eachother, regarding eachother as equals for the first time, and then Jamie said, "May I kiss ye?"

"Please, Jamie," he breathed, and then Jamie was taking John's face into his hands, just as he had dreamt about, and pressing his mouth ever so softly to John's.


	7. Take Me To Yer Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all! Take me to yer bed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked, now you shall receive.
> 
> You guys are so amazing!! I can't believe the beautiful comments I have gotten on this work! I'm so happy to have all of you stick with me through this slow build. And now, the moment we have ALL been waiting for, in regards to this fic and let's be honest...real life.
> 
> Just throwing this out there, if Sam Heughan and David Berry ever wanna do an adaptation of this work, I am completely on board!
> 
> Batton down the hatches, mateys, there be smut ahead!

John Grey was absolutely sure he was dreaming. It had all felt so real, rising from his afternoon rest, having dinner with the Dunsanys and then making some excuse about a headache so he could withdraw to his room, Jamie appearing in his window, their conversation. But now he knew it had all been part of some fevered dream. He must be getting ill. As this was the clearest dream he had ever had about kissing Jamie, he was determined to enjoy every moment, so he opened his mouth, and Dream Jamie opened his, and their tongues swirled together in a dance. John tentatively placed his hands on Jamie's waist and Jamie's hands moved around from his face to the ribbon holding his hair and set it loose. John broke from the kiss and watched as the ribbon fell to the floor and Jamie's hand moved into his hair. He turned his head again to look at him. 

Jamie was watching him carefully, as if he were the skittish rabbit and not the other way around. John seized his mouth again and Dream Jamie wrapped one arm tightly around his waist as the other hand gently massaged the base of his skull. They stood together like this for several moments, John breathing frantically through his nose as Jamie explored his mouth and his hand worked wonders on John's head. When he broke away again, desperately trying to catch his breath and his wits, Jamie was concerned. "Are ye alright, John?" John met his gaze and whispered "Are you real?" He ran his hand down Jamie's breast, "You feel real but..." 

Jamie laughed, a bit too loudly given the time and place, and placed his hands on John's shoulders, saying "Aye. I'm verra real. And so are you. This is real." "And, you really want this? This isn't something to do with duty or honor?" "Weel, I hope that I am honorable in doing this with ye, but aye, I want it. I didna think I ever could, but I long for ye, now. Ye...stir me." John smiled widely. He wanted to run off to someplace private so that he could jump up and down, throw his hat on the ground and whoop and holler like a 16 year old with his Army pals again. But seeing as he was nearing 30, in his bed chamber in a house that was not his home, and with a man he had longed for for several years, he decided instead to grab Jamie by the waist and resume his exploration of every corner of his mouth.

Jamie moaned, then, as John finally woke from his dream state and took control of the situation. They ran their hands over one another, John stroking up and down Jamie's breast and shoulders as Jamie ran his hands from John's hair down his back and over his waist. His hands came around to the front of John's dressing gown and began to loosen the ties. John took his cue and divested Jamie of his coat and cravat. Once Jamie slipped the robe off his shoulders, John stood in nothing but his sleeping gown, and Jamie stood back to take a good look at him. 

His hair was a disheveled mess, his eyes sparked with the fire of lust, his mouth was red and swollen and his cheeks blazed. "John," Jamie whispered breathlessly, "John yer...bonnie." He growled the last word. If it were possible, John blushed an even deeper scarlett and moved back to continue their kissing. After several more moments of gentle kisses and Jamie's hands running over his scantily clad body, sometimes even venturing to brush against John's rear, which made him sigh into Jamie's mouth, John asked him if he could help divest him of the rest of his clothes and Jamie nodded.

He looked his Scot in his eyes as he slowly removed his trousers and undergarments, leaving him in his tunic for modesty's sake and an even playing ground. He longed to see Jamie's body in full, but not until he allowed him to. Jamie, for his part, was ready to allow it and he removed the tunic himself and John let out a small gasp. Jamie was stunning. His skin was the golden color of any Scot who worked in the sun, sprayed with freckles across his shoulders and sprinkled across his breast. His stomach muscles rippled and the bones in his hips jutted out and formed a perfect V down to his pelvis. His thighs were large and strong, his calves muscled. His penis was slightly above average length but thick. And he clearly was...stirred. Jamie looked at John expectantly and a blush began to creep from his red hair down to his belly under such a scrutionous gaze. John sighed and with his best (worst) Scottish accent said "Jamie, yer bonnie." Jamie laughed again, again too loudly, and John moved to cover his lips with his own. "Sssshhhh," he whispered and kissed him, breaking only as Jamie slipped John's nightgown over his head.

Now, at last, they were both nude in front of eachother. John hesitated, unsure if the sight of his fully erect cock would suddenly snap Jamie back to reality. But Jamie didn't even look, simply grabbed John by his rear and pulled their bodies flush together. John moaned as they began to rut together, Jamie kissing him fiercely now. Jamie's hands were in his hair again, this time taking whole handfuls of it as he moved his hips and John clutched Jamie tightly to him, caressing the scars on his back. They broke again and pressed their foreheads together, both of them panting and now wearing a thin layer of sweat. "Take me to yer bed, M'Lord," Jamie growled.

Holy Mother of Christ, John thought and took Jamie by the hand, leading him to his bed, laying down, and pulling Jamie on top of him. He knew how this was going to go. He would not allow himself to touch Jamie's rear, his caresses only moving so far down his back. He was going to be taken by James Fraser tonight, and he could hardly wait. 

Jamie crawled up the bed, following John and kissing him. When they were both comfortable, he pressed his body onto John's and sighed. They fit together perfectly. John brought one leg up around Jamie's waist and they began to rock together. Jamie began to kiss John down his jaw, and when he lightly bit his earlobe, John let out a small 'mm' "Oh, ye like that?" Jamie asked, and ran his tongue gently around the shell of the ear. John's back arched and he sighed. Jamie was grinning. 

John thought perhaps it were time to stop being a passive participant and give himself something to grin over. After all, if he were to have but one night with his love, he wanted to make damn sure it was good for both of them. He flipped Jamie over onto his back and leaned across him, placing one hand on the mattress by Jamie's waist. His hair fell down around Jamie's face and he reached a hand up and stroked it between his fingers. He was smiling at John in curiosity. "Something I said, My Lord?" "I want to take you in my mouth." Jamie's eyes widened at that. Claire had done that for him sometimes, but not often, and it had been a verra long time since she had. It was something he dreamed about often. He ran his thumb over John's bottom lip and imagined it wrapped around his cock. With a grunt he said "Aye, I want ye to." 

John wasted no time sliding down the bed between Jamie's knees and taking his cock in his hand, weighing it. It was even thicker than it looked, hot and heavy in his hand. He swallowed a bit of saliva that had suddenly welled in his mouth. Watching Jamie the whole time, he bent his head and gave it an experimental lick with the tip of his tongue. Jamie hissed and John smiled. "Are ye gonna make me scream now, John?" he asked. John looked up at him and Jamie was smiling. He was glad those awful words could now perhaps be some inside joke between them. He said, "Yes. But you'll have to do it into the pillow, lest you wish to wake the family." And he took Jamie down in one swallow. Jamie did indeed snatch the pillow from beneath his head and moaned into it. 

It had been a long time since John had gagged on a cock, but he thought he may do so now. His mouth watered profusely and the drool slid down to Jamie's pelvis and ran in rivulets across his hips. He pulled up, swallowed, and went down again, curling his tongue around Jamie's member. As he felt the head brush the soft part of this throat, Jamie whinged and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He gave a suckle and slid back up, circled the head with his tongue and back down he went. His jaw was already getting a bit sore and he could feel the stretch of his lips. Heavens, this is going to be a tight fit later, he thought. He hoped his bottom was up for it, but it had only been a few weeks since he had had Percy. He didn't want it to hurt at all or Jamie would stop the whole proceeding immediately. He bobbed up and down a few more times, Jamie now panting and gasping above him, his fist still curled tightly in John's hair. 

Suddenly, he had a wild idea but was almost certain Jamie would never go for it. He had to take the risk, though, because he desperately wanted Jamie to experience (almost) every part of being with a man. He pulled off Jamie's member and allowed him a minute to regain his senses, running his hands through the hair on Jamie's strong thighs. Finally, Jamie looked at him in curiosity. "I have something I want to try," John said, "if you will allow me. If you are at all uncomfortable, I shall stop immediately." 

Jamie looked at him warily, one eyebrow arched, and slowly said "Alright. What is it?" "I'd like to show you one way two men can pleasure eachother, without penetration. But it does involve your bottom." Jamie clenched his cheeks together and now both eyebrows were up. "What could that entail, exactly?" he asked. John hesitated, then whispered "I wish to kiss you. There." Jamie sat up now. "John, ye canna do that! It's...odd. It would feel...wrong." "I assure you, it feels wonderful. But if you don't want me to, of course I won't. I'll happily go back to pleasuring you with my mouth on more acceptable parts of your body." Jamie's cock gave a bit of a twitch and he thought for a moment. If it didn't involve being penetrated, maybe...? And John said it felt good, although it sounded like a verra strange thing indeed. John must have done this with other lovers, or else how could he have any idea of such a thing?

"Did your other lovers enjoy it?" He asked. He suddenly felt an odd pang of jealousy, thinking of John's past lovers, but he quickly pushed it aside as it was completely irrational. "Yes, they enjoyed it immensely. As do I, when I allow someone to do it to me. It's incredibly intimate, and I only do it with men I feel attachment to, never strangers. That makes two people only, Jamie. I have not had a great many attachments." Jamie knew what John was saying. That he felt attachment towards him, trusted him, wanted intimacy with him. He sighed and waved his hand in a gesture of acquiescence and said "Alright. Aye. Ye can give it a try. But if I..." "If you say stop I shall stop immediately." Jamie looked at him for a moment and nodded.

John slid back down to his place between Jamie's thighs and took him in his hand once again. He began to lick and suckle his way down Jamie's manhood, caressed his bollocks with his tongue and moved them to the side, and as he spread Jamie's legs and pressed his knees up, he licked a stripe down the flesh between balls and bottom. Jamie moaned faintly and John looked up at him. His eyebrows were drawn together and he looked skeptical. Only one way to remedy that, John thought, and he took Jamie's cock in hand, ran his thumb over the slit, pulled one slightly clenched cheek aside with his thumb, and ran his tongue in a circle around Jamie's rim. Jamie moaned in earnest now but quickly bit it off on his knuckles. John knew he had him now and encouraged Jamie to roll onto his stomach. He lifted Jamie's hips just a little and used his whole mouth to kiss Jamie's hole. Jamie buried his face in the pillow and pushed his hips back a little. John went in with his tongue and began to lap at Jamie, probing him just a bit past the ring, thrusting it in and out of his beloved as Jamie tried not to clench. He swirled his tongue around the rim again and felt Jamie's heat coming off his body in waves. He was rutting slightly into the mattress and speaking Gaelic into the pillow with gritted teeth. 

"John. John," he said breathlessly, reaching back and taking John's hand. John immediately stopped his ministrations and looked up to see Jamie peeking at him through his hair. Jamie was breathing heavily and his eyes were hooded and dark. He sat up on his knees and took John in his arms, pulling him back up the bed and laying him on his back. John was unsure whether he was upset, uncomfortable, or ready for more.

Jamie leaned over John and began to stroke his face again. "Weel then," he said, and then swallowed. "That was verra interesting. I suppose there is a wee bit more to lovemaking than I was aware of. I've tasted my wife's cunny, but I never thought to taste her arse. I certainly never thought to let someone lick mine." "Did you...enjoy it?" "Oh, aye! Aye, I enjoyed it quite a bit! I didna want to finish myself on yer mattress with yer face buried in my arse, though." John's eyes blazed as he thought about how incredible it would be for Jamie to finish while his face was buried in his arse. 

"Ye haven't given me a chance to provide you with any pleasure," Jamie said, and he began to run his hand along John's stomach, rubbed his palm over John's cock, which caused him to whimper slightly, and over to his pelvis. He continued along down John's thigh and lifted his leg a bit. "Tell me what to do," he said. "Get the oil from my nightstand," John said, and whimpered again as Jamie caressed his bollocks. 

Jamie reached over him and opened the drawer. The oil was right there, next to John's Bible. He lifted his brow at that but didn't say anything. He took the bottle out, sat back on his knees, and removed the cap. He sniffed the oil, half expecting it to be oil of lavender. Memories swam in his mind for a moment but he pushed them away when he smelled hyacinth instead. 

John was staring at him, eyes glazed over and mouth hanging slightly open. He thought he looked like a porcelain sex doll, laying there with his legs spread, ready to allow Jamie to touch his most intimate place. 

John still could not believe this was happening. Twelve hours ago, he and Jamie were screaming at eachother in a barn, hurling vicious words at one another, making threats of violence. Now they were in bed, nothing but gentle and intimate touches between them, two hard cocks, hot breaths, wet mouths, and a bottle of hyacinth oil about to be put to use. He felt like he was floating on a cloud, and he wanted the sun to never rise again. He wanted to stay here in this moment forever. But no moment can last forever, so he took the bottle from Jamie and began to coat the Scot's fingers.

He lay back down and pulled Jamie into a kiss. Then he moved Jamie's hand down to his rear, showed him where to enter, and whispered "It should not take much. Just open me up and get me wet." They moaned into eachothers mouths as Jamie slipped his middle and index fingers into John. John took hold of his member as Jamie began to push his fingers in and out, staring at the place they disappeared into John. He looked up at his face and saw no trace of pain there. John's mouth hung open and he arched his back and fisted himself as Jamie plunged in and out of him with his hand. He began to kiss John's stomach and chest and moved down on the bed to bite at John's thighs. John flinched at first but as Jamie bit deeper into the flesh, he simply moaned wantonly. Jamie was pressing so deep into him now, his thumb was brushing the skin between where his fingers were buried and John's balls. He ran his thumb roughly over the spot and John bucked. "Jamie, Jamie, Oh God, Jamie," John chanted. "More oil. I need...please, more oil." 

Jamie withdrew his fingers from John and watched as the hole closed in their absence. He sat back on his haunches again, whistled low and looked up at John. Was he really going to be able to fit there? "I want you so badly, Jamie," John said as he sat up and took Jamie into another kiss, this one long and gentle and wet. They stroked their tongues over one another's and John suckled at Jamie's bottom lip. He started to kiss his way down Jamie's chest, lavished his tongue over one of Jamie's nipples, causing him to shudder and hiss, and he scooted down the bed to take Jamie in his mouth again. Jamie bucked into his mouth and John took hold of his hips. "Careful, Jamie. You're larger than you think you are. Take that oil, there." 

Jamie knew what John wanted so he coated his fingers in more oil and reached down to John's bottom. As John took him in his mouth again, Jamie inserted his fingers back inside and began to stroke John's walls. It felt verra different than a woman. Claire's honey pot was like a warm wet pillow inside. John was smoother, tighter, and clenched when he stroked. He withdrew his fingers, allowing them to catch on John's rim a bit and John moaned around his cock. He took more oil and spread it on John's cleft and cheeks and thighs, coating him thoroughly in slick, and pressed him thumb inside this time. Johned moaned and ran his tongue over the head of Jamie's cock, causing him to tip his head back and groan. 

John pulled off and Jamie withdrew his hand and John said "I think we should move this along, don't you? Much longer, and we are bound to wake the family with our sounds." Jamie's cock twitched at the words and he stared solemnly into John's bonnie blue eyes. They were about to make love, truly. 

He took John in his arms and kissed him deeply as he pressed him back into bed. He knelt between his thighs and applied the oil to his member and more to John's thighs, cleft, and rim.  
He rested himself over John, supporting his weight on one elbow and took himself in hand. "Are ye ready for me, Lord Grey?" he asked. John nodded and wrapped his arms around Jamie's shoulders, pulling his knees up and placing his feet on the bed, and Jamie sank into him with a groan. 

John saw stars for a moment. Jamie was stilled above him, buried deep inside, his hips pressed flush against John's. John lifted his hips a bit and pressed down and said "Good Lord, man, you are thick." "Am I hurtin' ye?" "Not one bit. It feels..." he flexed his hips again and said "it feels incredible." Jamie rolled his hips against John and grunted. "Aye. Ye feel verra good, too, John. Ye're verra tight, and warm." John pulled Jamie into a kiss as he used his feet to begin moving up and down. Jamie got the hint and started to pull out a little and thrust back in. John grunted and Jamie did it again. Finally, he pulled John's legs up by his knees, pressed his face into the crook of John's neck and said "Move with me." 

They began moving together, slow at first, and then their lust overcame them at last and they began to rock together harder, Jamie pulling further out and slamming back in. John was beginning to let out a stream of grunts, groans, and small whinges. Jamie placed his hand over his mouth and John opened his eyes wide. "In case ye start screaming," Jamie said with a smug smile. Oh, he was going to pay for that.

John wrapped his thighs tightly around Jamie and flipped them over. His cock slipped out as John positioned himself. He took hold of Jamie's manhood, stroked it twice, then placed it near his hole. He held Jamie's arms above his head, pinning him there, as he slowly sank down and took Jamie into himself. Jamie's back arched off the bed and he let out a long groan and John quickly covered his mouth with his hand. "Who's going to be screaming now?" He asked with a grin. "You are, John Grey," Jamie said as he took John's hips in a bruising grasp and began to thrust up into him. 

Jamie felt impossibly larger from this angle, and John thought for a moment he may actually start screaming in pleasure, but Jamie slowed and began to simply roll his hips, looking tenderly at John and reaching up to rub his thumb over the lip he was biting. John rocked in his lap gently for a few moments, the two of them catching their breaths and growing accustomed to one another's bodies. Then he bent down and ran his tongue over Jamie's nipple, kissed along his breast and licked the other. Jamie once again took his hips and began rocking more urgently. 

John began fisting himself and Jamie watched intently. When he began to feel close, Jamie suddenly rolled them back over, pulled out all the way, and shoved back in. This time, he was prepared and had already covered John's mouth with his hand. John moaned deeply into it and lightly bit the flesh of his palm. Jamie did it again and John whinged high. He knew what Jamie was doing. He would not scream. 

He rocked his hips roughly into Jamie's with a grunt and looked at him meaningfully. Jamie grinned and thrust hard against him. John's back arched and he wrapped his legs around Jamie's waist again and began to rock hard and steady, only allowing the sound of his breath to escape from his nose, Jamie's hand still pressed tightly against his mouth.  
Jamie buried his head in John's neck and they rode together. 

When John tried to flip Jamie again, he refused and they rolled over twice and landed with a thud on the floor. They both froze, panicked, sure they had woken the whole house. When they were sure there were no footsteps running towards them, they looked at eachother and laughed quietly. Then Jamie flipped John onto his stomach, right there on the floor, and said in his ear "I'm going to take ye from behind now, John, just like in my dream about ye." "Oh, my stars. Yes," John breathed into the carpet, and Jamie did. He took John by the waist, lifted his hips, ran a hand along his cleft to check that he was greased, and plunged deep into John in one stroke. 

John pounded his fist into floor as Jamie set up a punishing rhythm. "Tell me now, if I'm hurtin' ye John. I dinna think I can stop if I don't now." "Don't stop. Christ, Jamie, don't stop." 

With that, Jamie closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and began to slam into John, over and over. John was clenching tightly around Jamie and he looked down to see where they were joined. John's hole was stretched tight over Jamie's cock, the skin around the rim pink and wet with oil. Jamie reached down and ran his finger over it and John bucked against him. He was fisting himself again and Jamie could tell from the way his breaths were coming short and fast that he was close to his finish. He gripped his hips and pressed in tight, pulled out, and began to pump into him relentlessly again. 

The hand that wasn't on his cock was in his mouth, John was grunting and cursing into his knuckles. "O mo ghille milis! A leithid de bheul meallta ort! A bheil thu a ’dol a cum dhomh? A bheil thu airson gun cuir mi crìoch air do bhroinn?" John didn't have a clue what Jamie was gibbering about, but it sounded filthy. "What did you say?" he asked, moaning when Jamie thrusted again. "I said ye have a filthy mouth on ye, sweet lad. I said ye're gonna cum for me soon, and that I'd like to finish..." he grunted "inside ye!" "Oh God," John said as he pressed his forehead to the floor. He yelped as a hand came down suddenly on his arse. "I've warned ye about usin' blasphemy when I'm pleasurin' ye, John Grey."

John pushed himself back on Jamie's cock and took his own in his hand, stroking himself furiously now. He began to breathe harder, Jamie's pistoning had begun to stutter and became erratic, and as Jamie pressed himself against the most tender place inside John, his vision blurred and he came all over his hand, some of it dripping onto the rug.

John clenched down on Jamie during his orgasm and Jamie groaned into his back, holding him steady throughout. When John was finished, Jamie rocked against him a few times and with a bitten off shout, came deep inside John. 

He released John and they both rolled onto their backs on the floor. As they caught their breath, John looked at Jamie and smiled wide. "That was a scream." Jamie looked back at him sternly. " 'Twas not!" " 'Twas!" he said, laughing. Jamie rolled onto his side and gathered John into his arms. John stroked his hand through Jamie's red curls and thought about that night nearly 15 years ago when he recognized Red Jamie from the broadsheets. He never could have dreamt this up, no matter how hard he had tried. "Alright, John, ye win. Ye got me to scream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated the tags but if anyone has tag suggestions they'd be welcome! Thanks!
> 
> Full Gaelic: Oh my sweet lad! Such a filthy mouth you have! Are you going to cum for me soon? Do you want me to finish inside you?  
> 😉 🔥
> 
> I almost forgot to mention: hyacinth oil is for stress relief and in the pagan world it is believed to aid in forgiveness and comforting those who are grieving.


	8. Until We Meet Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and John must go their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter!! 😱😱😱
> 
> I can't believe how many people have enjoyed this work I am absolutely honored by all your kudos, bookmarks, and comments! Wow!
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking with me and I hope you all enjoyed our little tale and this last little snippet!
> 
> Jamie and John belong to Diana Gabaldon Herself, I just borrow them to make them touch eachother.

Jamie looked out the window and saw that the sky was turning pink. If he was to be out of the house and back in the stables before the other servants could see him, he had to go. Now. 

John watched him from the floor as he gathered his clothes and then rose, pulling on his robe, to help him quickly dress. He felt a pang in his chest. He did not know what to say, or what Jamie was feeling as he prepared to leave, or when they would see eachother again. 

Jamie dressed in silence, but kept flicking his glance to John's, waiting to see if he would speak first. 

Once Jamie had pulled on his boots, John said "Well then," and sort of flapped about for a minute, glancing about the room to make sure Jamie had everything he came with. When there was nothing left but to say goodbye, he finally looked him in the face.

Jamie smiled and rose off the bed. He went to John and took his face in his hands. "'Tis not goodbye, John, only farewell. Be kind to yerself, until we meet again." And he pressed his lips to John's once more.

John sighed into the kiss and when they broke away he said "Yes. You as well, Jamie, be kind to yourself." 

He helped Jamie climb out the window and watched him disappear onto the roof where he would cross to the back of the house like a prowler and escape into the dawn to his bed in the hay.

He touched his hand to his lips and the other to his bottom and smiled. Until we meet again, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS  
> Here's a little crack! for ya...
> 
> In my head, the Dunsanys totally heard them going at it last night, but they assume John was masturbating and are too polite and proper to mention it at the super awkward breakfast  
> 😱🤣🤷


End file.
